The Way to a Man's Heart
by Emantsal
Summary: Fenris is broody and angsty.. but even broody angsty elves need to eat.  Fabulous food, smexiness, and Kirkwall drama.  F!Hawke x Fenris x pastries x potroast...  along with the usual suspects.  Oh, and maybe cheesy fries!  Please R&R!  Please!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been watching way too many cooking shows lately on the Food Network. **

**Standard Disclaimer: Bioware Rocks!**

**The Way to a Man's Heart**

By: Emantsal

"Bethany! Whatever is your sister doing?" Leandra Hawke groused at her younger daughter as she wrapped a threadbare robe about her slender frame. Just coming from one of the hovel's two sleeping areas, she turned still sleepy eyes toward the kitchen to see her oldest daughter, Ryann, seemingly hard at work making an uncommonly large mess accompanied by the loud banging of pots and pans. Flour, eggs, and seemingly every other edible that had once resided within the cabinets was now littering the small counter space. Maker, the girl was surely possessed…

"Cooking, mother," Bethany replied, already dressed and having just come back from taking Wrex for a morning walk. "You know Ryann, mother. She picked up another stray last week and she can't help but feed him. We saw him at the Hanged Man yesterday evening and I could swear I heard the recipes begin to move around in her head. Mumbled something about him being too thin."

"Maker. Well, at least when she cooks for her friends, she makes enough to feed us, too." Leandra Hawke might not approve of her daughter's friends, or "strays" as she called them, but then the mercenary work her children were picking up around the city did pay the bills and keep food in their bellies, even if it inevitably came with the various and sundry "friends" of dubious background.

"I believe baked chicken and biscuits are on today's menu if the dead chickens and all that flour is any indication," Bethany continued, hanging her cloak on a peg by the front door. In the tiny kitchen area, the eldest Hawke child was busy cutting two large chickens up into smaller pieces and layering them into a large heavy pot. Bethany knew when she was done, she'd layer sliced carrots, potatoes, and onions over the foul, cover it with the heavy lid and place it in the fireplace coals to cook slow for most of the day. Along with the chicken, she'd whip up the most mouth watering fluffy biscuits that would melt in your mouth.

Mother and daughter were both lost in culinary day dreams when Bethany happened to notice the large basket of apples and berries sitting on the floor. Grabbing her mother's arm, she pointed it out and both women sighed audibly. If they were really lucky, Ryann would make an apple berry cobbler with a crust so flaky and buttery… "Mother… do you see what I see in the basket on the floor?" she asked, cutting sly eyes in her mother's direction.

"You don't think… This must be some new friend she'd picked up. What can you tell me about him?" she asked, pulling her youngest daughter along with her to the washroom so she could wash the sleep from her eyes.

"Well, for starters he's an elf, a crazy escaped slave from Tevinter that hates mages with a passion. Thinks we all practice blood magic and crawl into bed with demons."

"Maker… first the dwarf, then that Anders fellow. There's something strange about him, but I can't quite put my finger on it…" She shrugged and finished washing her face before continuing. "At least there's still Aveline. She's really done well for herself."

"She was there last night. Stopped by and played a few hands of Diamondback with us after her shift."

"I wish your sister wouldn't drag you into that awful place…" Leandra began her usual lecture, and as usual Bethany tuned her mother out as she poured fresh water to wash her face with. She loved her mother, but she just didn't see that Ryann was doing everything she could to keep the family afloat in the tide of refugees that had inundated Kirkwall since the blight began. Most Fereldens were looked on as not better than scum. Most lived in the sewers and scrounged for food, living day to day in a hopeless despair they wore around themselves like a burial shroud.

But not her sister. No, Ryann Dellia Hawke was carving a name for herself in this city of chains. She wouldn't let them starve. She'd take on any job if it meant they would be warm and well fed.

Yes, her sister was determined to make things better for the family. Since their father had died almost four years ago, the eldest child of Leandra and Malcolm Hawke had taken it upon herself to keep the family together. She knew it had almost killed her sister when their younger brother, Carver, was killed by an ogre as they fled Lothering. Although brother and sister didn't always get along, had in reality fought almost every day since Carver was old enough to look up at his older sister, that didn't mean there wasn't love there. They had just shown it by beating each other senseless most of the time. Maker, they had both enjoyed a good knockdown, drag out fight. With just eleven months between Ryann and the twins, Carver and Bethany, brother and older sister had always fought. Carver had never wanted to listen to his older sister… Oh she didn't want to think about Carver… She busied herself beginning the day's chores of gathering the wash that needed to be done.

Ryann Hawke looked around herself at the huge mess she'd made and sighed. Whatever in the world had possessed her to get up before dawn and begin cooking? Sometimes she wondered if she hadn't gotten just a little of their father's magic and she wasn't unknowingly possessed by some demon of the un-holy grill or a fade spirit condemned to eternal pursuit of the perfect sauce or gravy… Oh, speaking of sauces and gravy… She mixed up a little flour, spices, and milk to pour over the chicken and vegetables already in the huge pot she'd place in the fire pit. It would thicken the juices that cooked from the chicken and make the most tasty gravy to be served over the biscuits she'd just finished putting in the pan. And then there were the apples and berries sitting in a basket on the floor. Apple berry crisp… or maybe a cobbler… Anders liked the cobbler she'd made last week. And with all the time he'd been putting into the clinic, along with helping her and hiding from the templars, he deserved something good. Of course their new companion, Fenris, might not like cobbler. Maybe she should just make one of each she decided reaching for the flour and butter.

He'd shown up at the Hanged Man the night before. She'd been sitting with Bethany, Varric, Aveline and Anders, playing a fast hand of Wicked Grace, drinking a cold mug of the Hanged Man's Wicked Ale. The elf had been in the process of trying to order a mug of the house piss, as Varric called it, when she'd spotted him. Already nicely smashed and feeling like it was a good night to get a party going, although to be honest every night was a good night to get a party going as far as she was concerned, she'd jumped up and woven her way through the crowd to where he was standing at the bar. Instructing the barkeep to put his drink on her tab, and in the same breath threatening him with a painful death if he even thought about reaching for the tap on the house piss, she ushered their new companion over to the back table.

After dragging a chair over from another table… ok so there had been someone already in the chair… she'd dumped the drunk onto the floor and rolled him under a table… she'd then proceeded to make everyone at their table scoot their chairs around so the "new guy" could sit beside her…

Flour, cold water, and butter quickly formed into a dough ball and became a crust. Apples, sugar, more butter, spices, and berries – she let her mind drift back over the night before as she quietly worked to get the sweet treats ready to bake…

"Hey everyone, this is Fenris," she laughed, falling back into her chair, eyes sparkling as she leaned forward and took another large swig of her beer in front of her. She turned to him and continued, "You remember Varric, Aveline, and my sister Bethany?"

"I do," he'd replied, managing to acknowledge each before she'd continued. A brief scowl had touched his eyes as he nodded at her sister. His dislike for mages had been apparent at their first meeting. And honestly, she couldn't blame him. He'd been a Tevinter mage's slave for as long as he could remember. That was bound to give him a skewed view of things. And, the magisters of Tevinter were not known for being "nice people" to work for, er… slave for. No, these magisters were the same power hungry mages who had brought about the first blight over one thousand years ago…

"And this is Anders," she added, pointing to the blond human sitting next to her on the left. "He runs a free clinic in Lowtown for refugees and the poor." She decided not to mention that he was also a mage. Their new friend would figure that out for himself soon enough.

"It's your deal Hawke," Varric called out over the loud din of the pub's common room. They could have moved the game to the dwarf's private quarters, but this was the place to see and be seen if she wanted work to come her way. She still had lots of money to raise if she and Bethany wanted in on Varric's brother's trip into the Deep Roads.

"The game is Diamond Back and one-eyed knights are wild. Who's in?"

"You have all my money, Hawke, and besides, I need to get back to the clinic and check on a few patients," Anders said, casting a wary eye in the elf's direction before getting up and grabbing his staff. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Probably. I told Tomwise I'd be by with some interesting things I found. He's offered to make me some more "things that go boom" in exchange for the locations of any resources I find."

"I thought you were trying to make your own," Anders commended, still standing by her chair.

"Not since she almost blew up Uncle Gamlen's house," Bethany laughed from the other side of the table before continuing. "I'm surprised you didn't hear him cursing all the way down in Darktown."

"I thought he was going to explode he turned so red… And of course he blamed it all on mother and our apostate father. Evidently it's the apostate influence that makes her 'wild Ferelden urchins" act without any class or decorum. Even dead the man can't do anything right."

"Of course Uncle Gamlen's the one that gambled away the family estate and spends his time drinking and carousing down at the Blooming Rose. But we have no class…." Bethany yawned and pushed her chair back from the table.

"It's getting late sister. I'm going to let Anders walk me back to Gamlen's. Maybe your friend wouldn't mind seeing you home later?" Bethany pointedly looked at the elf before reaching for her staff and heading through the still thick crowd towards the door.

"How about it Fenris, Aveline, Varric? A few more drinks and hands of Diamond Back?"

The drinks flowed and coins changed hands, mostly from everyone to Hawke. She secretly made a few mistakes that caused the elf to win a few hands unbeknownst to him or the other players at the table. Malcome Hawke had been an excellent card player and had taught his oldest daughter everything he knew. It had been their secret from her mother. She frowned a little at the sadness that crept into her at the thought of her father… He'd been gone over four years now… She still missed him.

Eventually Varric and Aveline called it a night leaving Hawke and the elf talking as they sipped dark ale and nibbled on a small platter of cheese and bread she'd ordered. Ryann liked to drink as much as the next mercenary, but too much ale on an empty stomach was never a good idea. And besides, she liked food… she really liked food…

"So, how's it going Fenris? Getting settled in over at your Hightown Mansion?"

"I have managed to fortify the doors and place traps in front of the windows. My former master will not find me unprepared should he return to capture his prized investment."

"Ok, so now I'm going to have to try to sneak in, just to see how good these traps are."

"I would not advise it Hawke. Suffice it to say the consequences would be most unwelcome."

"I take that as a challenge, elf. I'll have you know I pride myself in my ability to outwit and outsmart any and all traps."

"Be my guest human. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh this sounds like fun. Let's go over now and I'll have a go at them."

"It's too late and you're much too drunk to make it that far. And I'm sure you have better things to do than - "

"Oh sod it," she interrupted. "I forgot I'm supposed to get up early in the morning and do some cooking. Baked chicken, roasted vegetables, fresh bread…" She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to glaze over as she described the dishes she was going to make. She also couldn't help but notice that he'd been the one to eat most of the tray of cheese and bread she'd ordered. And he did look thin… maybe too thin.. And then she remembered he'd given her all his coin the night she'd helped him.

Shit. Was he even eating? She'd make enough for him and Anders…

"Come on elf. I need my beauty sleep and you need to make sure your traps are as good as you say. I'll be testing them personally one day very soon."

"You've been warned human, that's all I'll say."

It was later that afternoon, when everything was done and carefully placed in individual baskets for easy delivery, that Hawke left her Uncle Gamlen's Lowdown hovel and set off across the city with only Wrex at her side. Her mother, Leandra, hadn't wanted Bethany openly visiting the apostate mage Anders. There were just too many Templars roaming the city, and she worried for the safety of her youngest daughter.

In Lowtown, Ryann dropped of a basket filled almost to overflowing for the mage. She took some time to sit and chat, listening to his radical ideas about mages and freedom. Because her sister was a mage, she was inclined to side with him in a lot of his ideas. That didn't mean she fully supported his militant agenda, though. She knew the risks all mages faced from demons. Her father had been an apostate, but he didn't ignore the dangers that came with being a mage. All his children had been taught the dangers of demons and blood magic. And lately, working around Kirkwall, she'd seen more than her fair share of blood magic. And poor Fenris… the lyrium burned into his flesh by a powerful blood mage… A cold chill ran down her spine in the summer heat as she thought of the horror he must have endured.

In Hightown, she made her way to the section of homes occupied by the resident nobles. This was where Fenris had decided to make a stand against his old master, by squatting in his abandoned house. She hoped he was home so she could drop the basket off… now about those fortifications and traps…

The elf sat in the upstairs master suite, a cross between a study and a bedroom, lazily swigging from a bottle of fine wine he'd brought up from Denarius's extensive collection in the basement. A small fire burned in the fireplace, the only light in a room where the heavy drapes has been pulled closed against the bright light of the afternoon sun.

He should have been thinking about what he was going to do now that he'd decided to stop running from his former master. He should have been more worried about his finances, or lack thereof. He should have been planning ways to make some coin rather than resorting to pick pocketing like he'd been forced into for the past several months since he'd escaped Denarius's clutches…

Yes, there were many things he should have been thinking about or actually doing, but all he could think of was one small human woman. One petite blonde that could dual wield daggers faster than anyone he'd ever met. A feminine force of nature that both excited and scared him. He'd never met anyone like her. She gave of herself to those around her and didn't ask for anything in return. It went against everything he knew, everything he'd ever experienced.

Warm wine slid down his throat and he reflected more on the dynamo of a woman that had literally fought her way into his life. Hawke wasn't what he'd come to expect from people. Most humans looked down on elves. Most humans would have gladly returned him to his former master for a few coins. Most humans would not have lost at cards so blatantly so that he could win a few coppers. When it came right down to it, Hawke wasn't like most humans.

It was the smell he noticed first. Over the acrid odor coming from the small fire, he noticed something else. Cooked meat… chicken… and fresh bread… About the same time his nose registered an intruder, something struck him on the side of the head and he leapt from the couch to reach for his great sword, the lyrium in his body already beginning to phase and glow a pale blue. With a snarl he was half way across the room before he realized who it was. He had too much momentum to stop and found himself pressing Hawke's slight form up against the doorway, her grey eyes smiling, a wicked grin on her lush lips… _lush lips?_ There wasn't even a hint of fear as she gazed up at him.

"I thought your traps and fortifications were supposed to be challenging. I was evading and disarming traps like yours when I was ten." She quipped before bringing a slim hand up and flicking another cooked pea directly into his face.

Wine and lyrium thrummed through his blood, a gloved hand a breath away from phasing into her chest, a heartbeat away from death…

"What the hell are you thinking, Hawke?" he yelled down at her. He didn't even bother to move away, instead pressing her even harder against the doorway. He could have killed her…

"Well… I was thinking it was a really nice evening for a picnic. But you've really ruined the mood with the whole blue flashy thing," she quipped, her breath warm and sweet against his lips, grey eyes still dancing with mischief. With a surprisingly quick duck and twist, she spun out of his grasp and continued as she picked up her basket and strolled across the floor to sit it on a low table by the fire. "However, I do forgive you, for the whole blue flashy thing, and was wondering if you'd be interested in going up on the roof for an evening of food and cool breezes…"

Willing his heart to slow down and quit beating like a drum, he warred within himself, caught between being angry at the women for interrupting his home, and for endangering herself. He could have killed her… But on the other hand the aromas coming from the basket she'd placed on the low table were making his stomach growl. The last thing he'd eaten had been the bread and cheeses the night before at the bar. And wine, even the best vintage, was no substitute for real food.

In the end his stomach won. The thoughts of baked chicken and fresh bread leading him to walk over to the basket and lift back the red cloth covering everything.

"It's really nice outside. If we go up on the roof, I bet we could see all the way to the harbor," she said smiling, but waited for him to make the decision.

"You… I don't understand," he said, his eyes never leaving the abundant food nestled in the deep basket.

"Oh, well… see, I kinda like to cook. So every few days I cook up a big batch of stuff and I usually take Anders some over at the clinic in Darktown. You met him last night. He runs a free clinic and I know he doesn't have time to cook or anything with all the refugees and others that visit him. So when I cook for my family… there's me, my sister Bethany… you met her already, my mother, and my uncle, Gamlen. Anyway, since I'm cooking enough for us, I always make more and… I figured you hadn't had time to really shop or if you even cook…"

"So you just decided to bring me a week's worth of food just because…" he asked, failing to keep the bitterness from permeating his words.

"What? You don't like chicken? I suppose I could have made a roast, but -"

"It has been my experience that no one does anything without wanting something in return," he replied, finally releasing the red cloth and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, but I do want something. I need a good fighter, one who's willing to work for little coin… I can't pay much. But, I can cook. And I've been told I'm a really good cook…"

"I've already told you I'm in you dept. Your assistance with those sent by Denarius to retrieve his priced slave was more than I had hoped for."

"They were slavers. That, in and of itself, is enough reason for me to help you hunt them down."

"I… have never met someone like you, Hawke."

"And you said you needed to practice your flattery," she joked before moving over to where he stood by the table and picking up the basket, heading for the door. "Come on. Show me the roof and I'll try to persuade you to work for some food and no money. Well, maybe lots of food and a little money. You can tell me all about Fenris over some baked chicken and apple berry cobbler. Is there any of that wine left?" she asked, pointing to the bottle he'd been drinking from earlier.

"A whole cellar of the stuff," he replied, grabbing the bottle and following her out the door.

"Cool! This evening is turning out better and better," she laughed merrily as she walked in front of him, hips swaying unconsciously, the smell of food and something else… something faint and feminine, teasing the elf's nose as he followed her up to the mansion's roof.

Over the next several long months, Ryann Hawke continued to visit the escaped elven slave, sometimes with baskets of food, and sometimes just to talk and escape her uncle's hovel. When she learned that her uncle had gambled the family estate away to slavers, who were using the Hightown estate as a base of operations, she asked Fenris to go with her when she went to retrieve her grandfather's will. She wanted the will, but taking out a cell of prolific slavers was the proverbial icing on the cake.

Together with him, Bethany, and Varric, she'd been able to recover the family will and give her mother hope of reclaiming the family estate. It was nice to see Leandra Hawke happy and hopeful once again. Carver's death had taken its toll on her over the past year…

Over time, their band of misfits grew. A shipwrecked Rivanian pirate, a displaced prince of Starkhaven, and another mage… this time a Dalish mage who was quite open about practicing blood magic.

When she wasn't out in the city or surrounding countryside tracking slavers, possessed mages, or any other job she could get, Hawke was at home, or as was more usual, in Hightown relaxing in a cook's dream kitchen. It hadn't taken much effort to convince Fenris that he should let her use the estate's kitchen. A few cakes, some pies, stuffed foul, braised lamb, a warm baked spring vegetable tart with flaky crust, the cheese and crumb top bubbling and just turning a delicious golden brown before being taken from one of the kitchen's three ovens…

A steady friendship grew until they were comfortable just sitting and talking, especially after a difficult job. They discussed fighting techniques as bread dough rose. They talked about preferred methods of sharpening their weapons as soups simmered over glowing coals. They went over battle strategies while chickens roasted over an open flame.

And somewhere along the way Fenris began opening up to her about his time as a slave, of how he'd received his markings, obliterating any memory he may have had of his past life, of any family he may have had. She hadn't said anything, just listened. What could she say? To know what he'd been through, how his former master had abused him so… She knew that not all mages were like the magisters of Tevinter. There wasn't a more gentle soul in the world than Bethany, but… She'd made a silent vow that if she ever got her hands on a very specific Tevinter Magister, there wouldn't be enough left of him to stuff into a thimble….

For his part, Fenris still didn't trust the mages in their group. His past was too scared for him to ever be able to do that. He tolerated Hawke's sister, Bethany, and acknowledged to himself that on some level she wasn't like the magisters of Tevinter. He'd come to respect Hawke, maybe even trust her a little. And if the young brunette mage was Hawke's sister, well…maybe she wasn't all bad. But even though he understood all this in his heart, in his head, any mage would always be dangerous.

Anders though? He always had reservations about that mage. Especially when said mage made it clear he was interested in Hawke. Hawke on the other hand was oblivious to the mage's overtures, or outright ignored his advances. Whether she was conscious of her actions or just dangerously naive about some things, he wasn't sure.

And then there was the Dalish abomination. He didn't really know whether to be angry at the fellow elf, or pity the demon she'd made a bargain with. He suspected the demon got the short end of that deal… She was just a wee bit naïve, and totally clueless…

It was several months after she fought her way into his life that Hawke told him she had saved enough gold to buy in on Bartrand's Deep Roads expedition. She wanted him to come with her, Varric, and Bethany. It would be dangerous, but with Bartrand's other hired blades and workers, the risk seemed to be minimal. The deep roads were supposedly almost empty of darkspawn after a blight. They could conceivably make a fortune…

Of course, no one could have predicted the turn of events that would occur….


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Bioware owns the Dragon Age Universe, and from the amount of time I spend on the game and writing about it, they evidently own me, too.

**A/N:** Sorry. Not much food in this chapter. Just one cake… But more coming. Just got back from a 9 day Caribbean cruise and the food was awesome! _Death by chocolate… what a way to go!_

Chapter 2

**The Way to a Man's Heart**

By: Emantsal

"What's in the bags Hawke?" Varric asked as the expedition prepared to leave for the Deep Roads. She and Fenris had loaded them in the back of the last wagon, three burlap bags tied closed with twine.

"Hard tack and jerky. Just have a feeling we'll need it," she replied, looking specutively at the hired help and supplies Bartrand had pulled together for their expedition. "There's no telling how long we'll be down there and from talking with Anders, there aren't many corner markets to pop over to and grab some lunch."

"Bartrand's nothing if not cheap," the dwarf replied, eyeing the questionable quality of the hired swords his brother was bringing along on their adventure.

"Anyway, you know me and food. Just want to make sure we have enough supplies with us."

"Don't let her fool you, Varric. I do believe there are more than a few bags of dried fruits and nuts, as well as a few sweet breads. The ovens and stoves have been going nonstop for days," Fenris added to the conversation as he jumped down from the back of the wagon.

"Hey, I even made us a Happy Adventuring cake for when we camp tonight. It has coconut, toasted nuts, creamy caramel frosting, and chocolate drizzled all over it. There would have been coffee to go with it, but I couldn't find any in the market this morning."

"You're killing me Hawke. Do you know how many nights I've gone to sleep dreaming of your Lemon Cake or that custard thing you made last month? I think Bianca's becoming jealous." He turned to look at the elf and continued, "And how in the name of the ancestors do you manage to not gain an ounce, Broody?"

"I'm just glad my sister keeps us busy training when we're not out making coin or we'd all be as big as the side of a house," Bethany laughed as she joined the group. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the elf stiffen, but at least now he didn't openly glare at her anymore. He must really like her sister. He no longer glared at her and preached to anyone within listening distance about the dangers of mages and abominations. Of course every time she saw those lyrium scares on his skin she wondered if he didn't have more than a right to his hatred of mages. Certainly the man that had done that had been a monster in every sense of the word.

Ryann quickly moved to hug her sister and the two walked toward the head of the wagons arm in arm, heads bent towards each other, one pale blonde, the other dark brunette, laughter floating on the breeze behind them.

"You're getting better Broody. You didn't even glare at Sunshine today. I'd say that real progress."

"Hawke's sister may not be like Denarius, but every mage has the potential to become an abomination. Hawke is a strong willed woman. It seems to reason that her sister may be also."

"They are two of a kind, aren't they? And you know Bethany has no love for blood mages. Just look at how she treats Merrill."

"Even so, I will keep an eye on the mage, if only to protect Hawke."

"I think Hawke can look out for herself," the Dwarf replied, falling in beside the elf as the wagons and adventures prepared to move out towards the place marked on the maps Anders had supplied.

"Even so dwarf, I feel I must protect the creator of such sublime dishes as fried chicken with creamy potatoes, or that most delicious concoction of crispy grilled squab with baby summer squash in a light citrus butter sauce."

"So, what you're really saying is you like having your own personal chef."

"The unlimited use of my kitchen in return for a small portion of the goods produced seems like a reasonable request. If you had your own personal brewery in your room…"

"I see your point, Broody."

Ahead of them, the wagons began to slowly pull out, and by sundown the expedition was well away from Kirkwall and headed towards the setting sun.

Shadows beyond the edges of the torchlight. Behind and ahead, deep darkness that seemed to harbor every fear, every nightmare that ever existed. Into that black hell they descended, deeper than anyone had gone in the Deep Roads in over a millennia. Darkspawn taint was heavy in the stale air, and Ryann struggled with her memories of their escape from Loithering and Carver's death. She knew Bethany felt it just as keenly. Moving closer, she took her sister's hand and held it as they walked along. Behind them, Fenris kept any eye on the pair, his expression unreadable.

He didn't know if he had any family, but watching Hawke and her sister fascinated him. It also confused him to no end. They constantly touched. They leaned close and murmured to each other, even in this black hell of a world…

But Hawke didn't forget him or Varric. She always made time to sit with him and talk, just like before, in the kitchen of his Hightown mansion. Many times they sat up after most everyone retired for the evening. Some nights they talked, and others they sat in companionable silence. Often they shared a cup of wine, and he'd come to live for those moments when their fingers would touch as they passed the cup between them.

The first time, he'd jerked his hand away so fast he'd almost spilt the wine. His only experiences of being touched had always involved punishment and pain. He'd spent years avoiding physical contact. So caught up in his despair and memories, he had almost missed the concern and hurt in her eyes. She hadn't said anything, hadn't asked, hadn't tried to pry. More than anything he'd wanted to explain, but his past was too raw, too painful.

She sat the cup between then, careful not to touch him. After taking a sip, he held it out for her to take, and she hesitated.

"Do they hurt?" she asked, and he knew she was referring to the scares that covered his body. She bit her lip as she hesitantly took the cup, her movements delicate and careful, trying to make sure her fingers didn't touch his.

"It's not that," he replied, finally turning his gaze to hers. "Touch… physical contact… all I can remember, all I've ever known has been… unpleasant."

"You don't have to tell me, Fenris."

"I know. But I want to. You are the closest to a friend I've ever known…"

"I thought we were already friends, Fenris. I've thought of you as such for some time now." Her eyes were warm, and his heart felt funny, like it was too big for his chest.

"I've watched you, you and your sister… I don't remember my family, if we were close, if… I've ever been touched as she and you do…"

Just the thought made him tremble.

"Give me your hand," she said, and he immediately recognized that determined look in her eyes. She sat the cup down and slowly reached for his gauntleted hand.

Heart pounding, he kept his eyes fixed on hers as he felt warm fingers touch his. Nothing had prepared him…

Ryann slowly moved her fingers over his. She hadn't expected the tender emotions that swept though her heart and soul. Terrified of what she was coming to understand, but unable to stop, she curled her fingers around his and just held his hand. How long they stayed that way, she didn't know. Somewhere along the line she began slowly moving her thumb back and forth over his, the coolness of his bronzed skin a sharp contract to the heat she felt racing through her body.

A cool popped in the fire, breaking the spell they both seemed under. Slowly withdrawing her hand, she murmured, "You are a free man, Fenris. Don't let him continue to control your life." She left him sitting by the fire, returning to the tent she shared with her sister before she blurted out things better left unsaid.

Beside the fire Fenris looked to make sure his body hadn't turned to ash. The fire that had swept through him at her touch had had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the woman, everything to do with a certain human who had invaded his life and made herself perfectly happy in his kitchen, everything to do with Hawke and the strange feelings he'd been denying since he first laid eyes on her.

Oh, he knew physical attraction for what it was. There were parts of his life with Denarius he would forever deny, even to himself. It was much easier to deny them than to deal with the memories of what the magister had…

_Bah… he'd said he wouldn't go there…_

But Hawke, that was another matter. She acted as if she actually cared about him. But then she seemed to care about everyone in their little band of misfits. He couldn't let himself think that it was something more than it was… And he wouldn't let himself come to care for her. No. Just look at what had happened to those he'd come to care for before…

In an ancient Thaig, they encountered their first Darkspawn. Deeper and deeper they went into the ancient underground world. Ryann and her sister spoke and laughed less, the very air seeming to become twisted by the taint that permeated everything.

The battles were fierce and bloody, and Hawke always made sure she checked everyone's wounds. She knew what darkspawn blood did, Aveline's husband's death weighing heavily on her mind.

"Please let Bethany look at your arm, Fenris. It's a deep cut and needs stitches and a bandage at the very least," she pleaded, hurrying over to crouch beside him on the cold floor, placing a lantern beside them. They'd managed to make it back to the camp, and Varric was currently having a yelling match with Bartrand, who thought they should have continued to scout ahead regardless of their injuries.

"I understand she is your sister, Hawke, but I will never willingly allow a mage to touch me, ever again," he snarled, already attempting to put a hastily thrown together elfroot poultice around the cut.

"You are the most stubborn man I know," she replied tersely, ignoring the disapproval in his eyes as she reached for the poultice and his injured arm. "Maker damn it. You know Bethany is nothing like him," she continued, working to gently work his gauntlet down and off his hand. With a touching softness rarely shown to others, she removed his poor attempt at a healing poultice and began cleaning the wound with far more care and tenderness than really seemed necessary.

Opening her small medical kit, she began to take out a needle and thread, but when he shook his head, she put them back and simply packed elfroot into the wound and wrapped clean bandages around it.

"Why let a mage touch me if you are more than capable of tending the wound yourself."

"You just want my hands on you," she teased tiredly, tying the cloth strips off and picking his gauntlet up to help him push his hand back inside.

"Better your touch and a bandage than magic," he replied just as tiredly, bitterness at his past even now present.

"Just another in a long list of things we'll never see eye to eye on," she sighed. "I guess I should just count myself lucky that you like my cooking so much or you'd have left long ago." Maker he was like a dog worrying with a bone. Magic was bad. Magic was wrong. Magic was evil. Magic was a curse… Mages were a curse…

She knew his former master had been a complete monster, knew he had good reason to hate magic, to hate mages… But honestly, Bethany had never been anything but kind to him, even when he treated her like so much dirt beneath his feet.

"She is my sister, and she'd never been anything but kind to you, Fenris," she said, reaching into her pouch for a healing potion and some stale water to wash it down with and handed them to him.

"I am aware of that Hawke. But magic… mages have colored my entire life with pain and misery, what little I remember of it. Your memories of your sister and father color your life. Though we have fought blood mages and abominations, you have those memories to look at the world through, memories of happiness and joy. Besides, neither your father nor your sister ever burned pure lyrium into your flesh…" the last said through clenched teeth as he slipped the gauntlet back over the fresh bandage.

"You're right. Perhaps I should just go put a knife through her heart right now. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she begins consorting with demons."

"Joke if you will…"

"No, really. Why stop there. Come on, we've seen templars possessed. Perhaps there were mages somewhere in their family lines. My father was a mage. My sister is a mage. It only stands to reason that I must be susceptible. Maybe you should put me down before I turn into some rabid beast." She was really worked up now, and without thinking, grabbed his hand, palming one of her own daggers into it. She wrapped both of her hands around his and brought the point to her chest, over her heart.

"A quick jab up between the ribs and a hard twist…"

Fenris felt his breath lock in his lungs. She was wrong about mages, so wrong… but she was fire and passion and totally devoted to those she loved and protected. He wanted to pull away, but just being this close was...

But he knew what mages were capable of, knew the horror they were capable of inflicting on their victims, remembered the agony of the blade as it carved into his flesh, the white hot pain of lyrium burning and fusing with living tissue…

Anger raced through his blood, the fist held tightly between her hands beginning to glow a pale blue as the lyrium phased and pulsed, a living weapon.

"I wouldn't need a blade, Hawke," he bit out, managing to yank his hand from between hers.

"You're right about that," she bit out before rising and heading over to her sister, leaving him wondering at her cryptic remark.

It didn't dawn on him until some time later that she'd come to check on him first, even before checking on her own sister…

She'd been pushing them hard for days. Supplies were getting very short and tempers were even shorter.

"Maker damn it sister, can you please quit dawdling?" she finally yelled when Bethany fell behind again.

"I'm sorry Ryann. I'm just so tired," her sister replied in a small voice that spoke volumes.

"We're all tired," she replied, just wanting to get the hell out of the ground, so tired of the stench of the Deep Roads.

"Sunshine doesn't look so good Hawke," Varric observed from where he'd been walking beside the brunette mage. He'd made it his job to watch out for her as well as keep a lookout at their back.

"We all look and feel like hell," she replied, voice like steel. "We need to keep going."

"I'll try to keep up sister," Bethany replied in a little voice, already getting raw elfroot from her pack to chew on.

"Just a little longer and we'll rest Bethie. I promise," Ryann sighed, already heading out.

Fenris kept pace with Hawke and Varric kept an eye on Bethany and their rear. Every since Bartrand had betrayed them, their small group had pushed to find a way out. They'd battled Darkspawn and demons, and in the end, they'd found a treasure trove that had rivaled the lyrium idol Varric's brother had betrayed them for. Of course they'd had to battle an ancient demon to get it and almost died in the process…

Behind them he heard the mage stumble… a strange sense of foreboding creeping over him like a cold wind blowing…

"No. NO!.. It's not the taint. You're going to be fine. You're just tired Bethie. It's not the taint," she pleaded, terrified of loosing her sister. On a dirty floor Hawke cradled her sister against her chest and rocked back and forth. Fenris and Varric could only look on as the mage visibly faded before their eyes.

"You can't do this to me Bethany. You can't leave me," she begged, her voice becoming hoarse and broken, tears running unchecked down her face.

"I'm sorry Ryann. I'm sorry… It hurts," the young woman managed to gasp out as the pain of the taint ran rampant through her body. "It burns Ryann… You know what you have to do."

"NO! We'll get help. We just have to get you to the surface."

"Sister… take care of mother…"

"I'm not doing this Bethie. You're going to get better…" Maker no. This wasn't fair.

"I love you sister…" Pain was clear in her eyes. "Please, it hurts to much… burns…" Ryann could see the taint spreading quickly, thin streaks of sick grey beginning to cover her sister's skin.

"Bethie, I…"

"Please…" breathless and unable to hold the pain at bay any longer, Ryann watched as her sisters body began to spasm and jerk uncontrollably.

"Sister," she sobbed, the harsh sound echoing through the cavernous hell.

Fenris watched with dawning horror as Hawke drew a slim dagger and puller her sister close. No, she couldn't… she wouldn't…

_You're right. Perhaps I should just go put a knife through her heart right now. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she begins consorting with demons_…

Beside him, Varric turned his head and closed his eyes, but he watched, unable to look away.

It was all over quickly, the only sound afterwards a soft keening that rose to a gut wrenching sob. In his chest, his heart seemed to twist and shudder. He might not remember his family, didn't know if he'd ever loved anyone, but he knew Hawke had loved her sister. How in the name of the Maker would she ever get over having to end her own sister's life?

She was sitting beside the fire alone, seemingly watching the flames dance and twist. Varric had taken first watch and after setting up his and Hawke's sleeping bags, he walked over and sat beside her on the cold floor. It was the first time he'd reached for her hand. He'd only meant to offer what comfort he could, but she'd looked at him with such pain in her eyes… Lips trembling she'd promptly collapsed against him, small sobs and hiccups against his neck. Uncomfortable as he was with closeness, with touch, he found his arms going around her, pulling her against his chest as the storm of sorrow washed over her.

Why? Why did she have to feel go damn good in his arms? Why now? Why at all? She'd called him friend. Even though they always argued about everything, especially mages and the help she gave the abomination, Anders, she believed him to be a friend.

But the things he was feeling as he held her in his arms were anything but friendly. Shit. What was the point, though… He was an escaped slave, an elf… Hawke was a woman who could have any man she wanted… There was no point in dwelling on things he could never have… no point at all…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**The Way to a Man's Heart**

By: Emantsal

The wine was deliciously sweet as it slid easily down the back of her throat. Outside, night had descended on the city, but she felt no compulsion to get up and go home. Besides, it was getting colder outside, the Kirkwall autumn settling in and preparing the way for winter – and inside it was warm, a fire beginning to burn down in the fireplace, the heat spilling out into the room where she was cozily ensconced on an old couch with an equally old blanket thrown over her lap, her feet happily scooted half under the always slightly grumpy elf at the other end of the couch for warmth.

The wine was the perfect ending to a perfect evening. She'd simmered a beef roast all day in wine, adding baby root vegetables towards the end, as well as a few scrapings of fresh horseradish. The added kick of the horseradish went well with the tender beef as well as the side dish of creamy smashed potatoes she had baked with bits of sharp cheddar cheese mixed in. For desert she'd made Fenris's favorite, a Chocolate Mocha Cake with creamy caramel and coconut frosting, dusted with toasted nuts and cinnamon. With a stomach full of food and wine flowing freely through her blood, a warm room and good company, Ryann Hawke was pleasantly drunk. Buzzed, inebriated… actually plastered.

"Stop wiggling your toes, Hawke. I'm not one of your desperately besotted potential husbands who enjoys being poked constantly. In fact, shouldn't you be at home with your cold toes tucked up under one of them?" He groused but didn't bother to move from where he was sitting. Of course, movement of any kind seemed so unthinkable at the moment. Full, warm, drunk… and Hawke… He reached for the bottle of wine she was holding.

"Oh Maker Fenris" she sighed then giggled, taking another longer pull from the wine bottle before sitting up to pass it to him. "This is the first bloody night in over a week she hasn't had some noble or their pasty son over for dinner. They fawn over me, hold my hand and tell me how beautiful, how grand, how wonderful I am. Never mind that my hands have more calluses than theirs, and I carry daggers on several parts of my body. Oh no… they only see the old Amell family crest, and estate wealth… Hawke, the new nobility of Kirkwall." And I hate them all. No, not hate… just completely uninterested.

"There must be at least one you could tolerate," he said, taking his own long drink of the sweet wine. Why did he torture himself like this? Every night she came here it was the same. Great food followed by a recounting of all the eligible rich men her mother was trying to set her up with. He was beginning to wonder if he wasn't a… what was that word Isabella had used? Masochist? Yes, that was it, a masochist.

In the years since they'd returned from the Deep Roads, he'd grown accustomed to her being around, accustomed to her touch, accustomed to the woman. Though he would never let it be more, he found himself craving her nearness more and more.

"Well, no. None of them. Not my type at all." She snuggled down deeper in to the sofa. "I mean, hell… You know Anders has always had this thing going for me. Sebastian, too, kind of... And they're both much more my type. Adventurous, good in a fight, not afraid to get a little blood and guts in their hair… like you and me."

"The Abomination and the Chantry Boy. I can see why your mother is worried, Hawke." It was hard to keep the disgust from his voice. Disgust and something else… He didn't really want to think about the 'something else'. Hawke, think about her, thinking about her that way… with someone else, it always unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

"Oh come on. I know you don't like Anders…"

"That's putting it mildly. If you married him, who would you sleep with? Him are Justice?"

"Yeah… that is a little weird. And I get the feeling Justice doesn't like me… That could be kinda awkward. But Sebastian's nice. He's a titled prince after all. And if he could ever get past that whole Maker thing, he might be a nice enough husband."

"Are you so anxious to get laid that you'd settle for…" he had to throw up a hand to block the pillow that came flying at his head, careful not to spill the wine clutched in his other hand.

"And when was the last time you got laid, Fenris?" she asked tightly, settling back down on the couch, motioning for him to hand the bottle back to her.

"You know I remember nothing from before I received these markings, Hawke. If there had been anyone before, I have no memory of the affair." _Deny, deny, deny…_

"Yea. I know, but it has been several years now since I met you. I just thought that maybe since you escaped from Denarius, you might have… you know… visited the Blooming Rose, met a nice girl and bumped uglies together, or a nice guy… I have no idea where I'm going with this…"

"I haven't 'bumped uglies' with anyone, Hawke. If you haven't noticed, Denarius still lives and as long as he breathes, he'll never stop trying to get his precious investment back, even if he has to strip the flesh from my bones to get it. That's not very conducive to… "

"I'd never let that happen," she interrupted, her usually placid features momentarily contorting with anger. With a conscious effort she relaxed back into the couch and continued, "He'd have to go through me if he wanted to get to you. I mean, who'd keep my toes warm? Whose dilapidated mansion would I hide out in when mother wanted to introduce more 'pretty boys' to her unmarried daughter?"

"It is nice to know I'm so highly valued for my house and toe warming skills." So there it was. He had to face it. That was all he was good for.

"Not only that, but you have good wine, you don't hit on me like Anders and those playthings my mother invites for dinner, aaannnndddddd… most importantly, I actually like you as opposed to most people I'm acquainted with."

"And just what is that supposed to mean? You like me because I don't throw myself at you?"

"Exactly. You're not impressed with Kirkwall's newest darling of the nobility. And it's obvious you have no designs on my person," she said matter-of-factly. In the years they'd known each other, Fenris had never, ever, not once, made any kind of move on her. And oh, how she'd wanted him to…. Maybe he just didn't like humans? Or women?

"Hell, I could probably do a striptease right here and dance naked in front of the fire and you'd just sit there and brood, Mr. Broody Fenris." Wouldn't that just be a kick in the pants. It actually sounded like fun. It was getting warm in here…

"Hawke…"

"In fact, maybe I'll do just that. Mother doesn't like me coming over here all the time. Thinks that one day you'll get me drunk and take advantage of me. Not that I'd complain, mind you… Of course, if you haven't been smitten with my charms and undeniable beauty by now, as drunk as I've been some nights, I'd have to say that's a pretty good indication that you're just not interested." She giggled at the image in her head.

"Hawke…" Not that she'd complain? Not that she'd complain? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"And as for getting laid… I've never done that. Yet. And I don't know if I could trust one of the men my mother parades in front of me to ever let them do… that…" She made a half disgusted face and waved the hand not holding the wine bottle in a vague, dismissive manner. "Maybe Anders… Maybe Sebastian… Hell, maybe Isabella. But does it count as sex if it's with another woman?" Wow, the wine was really loosening her tongue tonight.

"Hawke! I'm not going to sit here and listen to you make up a list of men, and women, you're willing to sleep with. As much as I enjoy your company, I don't think we should be having this conversation." What the hell did she mean 'not that she'd complain'? She was a noblewoman, he was an escaped slave, an elf, squatting in his former master's abandoned house. She had nobility courting her, and she wouldn't mind if they 'bumped uglies'? Maker, the woman was going to be the death of him…

She pulled her feet from under his thigh and put them in his lap, wiggling her toes again. "Fine. Let's make a list of people you'd consider sleeping with. At least one of us should get some before we turn old and wind up sitting here in our nineties, still arguing about who we should fuck… Let's see… There's Isabella, Merrill, that waitress at the Hanged Man, Nicole over at the Blooming Rose - "

"I'm not listening to you, Hawke. I'm not having this conversation. And, if you keep wiggling your toes in places they damn well don't belong, this entire conversation may become moot anyway." What was her game? What was she up to? Hawke's feet in his lap were stirring things to life.

He consciously tried to fight the warmth spreading through out his body. But the wine and her nearness made it difficult.

"I'll wiggle my toes anywhere I damn well please." Bold, brave wine flavored words slipped from her mouth before she could think. It wasn't as if it'd do anything anyway.

"Go home Hawke," he commanded. He'd be damned if he'd be run off his own couch. And it was his house… well, maybe not, but she had her own mansion to go to.

"No. It's too late, too cold, I'm drunk, warm… and besides… MAKE ME."

"What? Are you two again? Plainly you were not disciplined enough as a child and need to be taught better manners."

"So what are you going to do, Fenris? Spank me?" Maker, she hadn't just said that, had she?

"Maybe your future husband would thank me for such actions. You clearly do not know what is, and what is not, acceptable behavior for a woman of your status." The nerve of the woman! Spank me? He'd had just about all he could take with her damn toes, long silky hair that smelled of spring rain, gray eyes laughing at him, daring him, taunting him…

"You wouldn't dare…"

"I. Most. Certainly. Would." The wine and a need to teach her she couldn't play with him like this over powered all rational thought and he reacted without thinking.

She twisted to roll off the couch at the same time he lunged for her. They wound up on the floor in a tangle of legs and arms, Hawke howling in laughter trying her best to squirm away – Fenris focused and intent on keeping her from doing just that.

She was a rogue and a limber one at that, turning and squirming all over the place trying to get away, but even as drunk as they both were, Fenris still had the brute strength to hold her down in place.

Of course his plan, so clear in his head when he'd lunged for her, intent on teaching the most infuriating women he'd ever known that this was his house, his couch, his lap she'd been wiggling her toes in… it all began to fall apart when he realized he was lying on top of her, her arms pinned above her head, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest, his hips cradled between her firm thighs. Her eyes, usually so grey and clear were now the color of a storm darkened sky, something wild and wanton lucking in their depths… her lips parted and so tempting looking…

And then he felt… IT. But no, it couldn't be. Surely it had to be his imagination, which was, he had to admit, running wild at the moment.

But there it was again. Toes wiggling up the back of his calf. A leg bent at the knee as Hawke grinned slyly up at him, the toes of one foot creeping insidiously up the back of one linen clad leg.

Maker, he should have kept his leather armor on instead of changing into his usual linen evening clothes…

"Stop." For the love of the Maker, she needed to stop before he got any harder and…

"Make. Me." She was in heaven. Even knowing this was a very bad idea, she couldn't help herself. She'd wanted him for so long now. And if the hardness she felt between her legs was any indication, he wanted her, too.

He made to move off of her, trying to roll away, trying to move his body away from hers… away from her scent, away from her warmth, away from a need that was almost painful in its intensity, but she stopped him, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him all but immobile with her gaze.

"I am not a play thing you can toy with, Hawke. I may be an escaped slave, an elf, but I'm also a man and if you keep it up, you may get more than you bargained for."

"So do something about it… Fenris. Go ahead and spank me. If you think you can. You know you want to…"

"Hawke…" His hold on his temper and body was growing weaker. Through his light pants and her own light leather legging he could feel her heat… and wetness. She had no right to torment him so. No right to tease him with… 

She squirmed under his weight, her pelvis tilting upward and rocking against his now painfully hard length. "Or maybe spanking is what you have in mind…"

"I didn't think I was on that list of people you wanted to fuck, Hawke."

"And I didn't think you thought of me in that way, Fenris."

"You should go home, Hawke, before I show you exactly what way I think of you."

"You're all talk, elf."

"And you're too drunk to know what you're saying, human."

"I'm not too drunk to recognize a line of bullshit when I hear it."

"Don't push me Hawke."

"Push you? Maker damnit, I've done everything but… Let me up. Maybe Anders or Jethan over at the Rose is up for a little midnight activity." With her head swimming because of his nearness and the wine heavy in her veins, she tried to get up, but he forced her to remain still.

"You're not going anywhere near the abomination, or the whore." She was breathing hard, her lips, so tempting in the firelight, parted and inviting. Soft breasts he managed to ignore for so long were pressed against his chest, branding him through his clothes. Between his legs his hard length throbbed and ached. _No! He would not think of her that way. Down that road lay madness. And he would not… _

"I'll go where ever I want, and I'll fuck whoever I want. You don't want - "

He'd had enough, and something snapped inside. She'd pushed and pushed until he was past the point of caring. Just the thought of her with the abomination was enough to shatter what little control he had left over himself.

One second he was seeing red, the lyrium in his skin beginning to glow, bathing the room in a blue-white haze. The next, his lips were on hers, hard and insistent as he forced them open with his tongue, invading her, branding her, consuming her…

**A/N** Honestly, in the game how long does it take these two to hook up? Too long, if you ask me. However, I know waiting and anticipating often make the reward so much sweeter… Well, we'll see where my muse takes me with this. Do they or don't they? Will they or won't they? Will there be pie, or maybe some kind of tart? (Not Isabella!)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**The Way to a Man's Heart**

By: Emantsal

It was there in the back of his mind, a thing crawling through his brain, a sickened memory twisted beyond reason... This was wrong, he didn't want these feeling… but the feel Hawke under him, moaning his name, her lips opening under his…

His hands were tangled in her hair, angling her mouth to his as he tasted her lips, tongues dancing, teeth nipping. Through the soft linen of his shirt, her breasts pressed against his chest, her softness against his hardness.

It had never been like this. This was all too new, too fast, too much. Before there was… there had been no choice… Before…

Hawke's hands were threading through his white locks. Long fingers caressing his scalp and neck. The feelings were ecstasy, and then delicate fingers were skimming over the soft skin of his ear and…

"_Elves have such sensitive ears, don't you agree my pet?" Wrinkled fingers ghosting over his ears as he knelt between his master's spread legs…._

The image seared across his brain. Heart racing and disgust rolling around in his stomach like acid, he pushed away, rising to quickly put distance between himself and Hawke. He hated how he felt, still hard, still wanting her, still wanting to feel her flesh against his own…

"Fenris?" she looked up confused. What had just happened? One second he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow, and then he suddenly looked disgusted and practically jumped away from her. "Did… Did I do something wrong?" she asked, pushing up onto one elbow, the other hand going up to thread through her heavy gold locks.

Maker, she was so clueless about… whatever this was. She wasn't stupid. She knew what sex was, but she must have done something wrong to make him so eager to get away from her.

Form the green pallor of his skin, she knew she had done something truly awful. When he didn't respond, only turned away from her to look out the window, she quickly gathered her things and ran from the room. Ran, stumbling, almost falling down the stairs. Outside in the cool night air she sucked air into her lungs and refused to give in to the need to cry.

Why was she so… Fenris was the only man she really looo… Liked. Yes, liked. He was her good friend, but she must not mean as much to him.

Was she so unlovable? Her father had favored the twins, especially Bethany. When they were born, he and Leandra had doted on them. Big sister Ryann had been forced to grow up quickly. And then Carver and the ogre…

"_It's your fault, Ryann. You should have protected your little brother." _Never mind that the ogre had almost killed them all and she'd barely managed to kill it, walking away with several cracked ribs herself.

And then Bethany… Maker she missed her little sister. Bethany had always loved her.

"_How could you Ryann? You knew it was dangerous. You of all people should have protected your sister, especially after you let Carver die."_ Her fault… yes, it was all her fault…

It was her fault Fenris had scrambled to back away from her. Her fault. It would have been so much better if the ogre had taken her instead…

Not knowing what she was doing or where she was going she wandered with Goose, her Mabari, at her side. She almost welcomed the hiss of a blade sliding from its scabbard somewhere to her left.

The light of morning came too quickly when she rolled over and winced, a large seeping gash running from just under her arm across her back.

_Venhedis_… what had he done? He'd let his past ruin any chance he had at a normal life. He thought back to what the witch, Flemeth, had said. Something about escaping the chains of slavery, but was he truly free?

He'd heard Hawke stumble out of his house and he'd wanted to follow her to explain. But she'd be disgusted if she knew what he'd done as Denarius' pet.

Did he want Hawke? Yes. He wanted her with a need that burned. But he couldn't… She was Hawke, a noble, a good person, sweet, caring..

And he? So twisted on the inside. Anger, bitterness, hatred like acid eating away his soul. Only Hawke had ever made him feel something other than self loathing. When he was with her, the world was a little brighter, he was a better person.

So he tortured himself. With her, but always apart. Until tonight… Tonight she'd welcomed him in her arms. She'd called him a friend. Said she trusted him. She'd been willing to give herself to him….

Drunk. She'd been drunk. She'd have never said those things sober. There was no way she wanted him. Who could want someone so pathetic and disgusting as himself… An elf with visible scares on his skin and even more invisible scars on his soul.

She avoided him for a week. There were lots of little jobs that she could accomplish alone, or with Varric or Isabella. It was just too embarrassing, or maybe too depressing.

Makers hairy ass cheeks… Why had she practically thrown herself at him? She'd never really let on that she really, really, oh hell, absolutely liked him. Of course he was disgusted. She'd been nothing better than a drunk asking for a quick fuck.

She'd kinda flirted over the years, but he'd never seemed interested. And, he had so much baggage she' hadn't pushed. Just being near him was enough. She was his friend, his good friend. A friend who just happened to be crazy about him…

She eyed the Shepard's Pie on the table and wondered if he'd eaten today…

"Another letter for you, Messer," Bodan interrupted her thoughts, coming into the kitchen.

"Thank you Bodan. Just put it on the table while I get this sliced up and ready for delivery. Do you think you and Sandal can take a few baskets over to the Hanged Man for Varric and Isabella?"

"Of course!" the dwarf replied enthusiastically. "Sandal has been fidgeting all morning. Would you mind terribly if we took your wonderful hound with us? My boy enjoys him so much."

"That would be fine. I'm also leaving enough for you two for when you get back."

"You are too kind Messer, although my boy and I would never pass up the chance to fill our bellies with your fine cooking."

After he left, she began dividing the large meat and vegetable pie up, finally cutting an extra large wedge for Fenris. Maybe she could make it up to him with food…

The letter was from the foreman at the Bone Pit. She'd instructed him to give her monthly reports on the mine's activities. After reading over the report, she loaded a basket with the Shepard's pie and a few loafs of fresh bread and blackberry jam. On the way out she scooped up a tin of chewy brownies and added them to the basket. On the way through Hightown, she'd stop and get some fresh milk… She'd just knock and leave the basket inside the door…

She was just putting the basket on the entrance hall floor when –

"Hawke." And she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Sod it Fenris, you almost gave me a heart attack," she yelled, standing up and turning around to see him standing just inside the door.

Red faced and hands on her hips, she stood there just looking at him. She silence stretched between them.

"I was just - "

"I went to your - "

"You first," she said, moving to right the basket that tipped on it side when he startled her.

"I… spoke to Hubert this morning. He is requesting that you visit the mines. The miners have been asking about you."

"Oh…"

"I went to your house, but no one answered the door."

"I was probably on my way here. I just wanted to drop this off. It's some Shepard's Pie and a few cookies…"

"You didn't have to do that."

"I… I just wanted to… to apologize for the other night. I shouldn't have assumed you wanted the same things I did…" she looked anywhere but at him and fidgeted with her cloak hem. "So… I'm sorry and it won't happen again. And do you want to go with me to visit the mine? I'm planning on leaving pretty early in the morning." She rushed through the last part and finally looked up to find his eyes regarding her from beneath shaggy white locks. Guarded and unreadable, she felt her stomach sink and her heart catch. Her stupidity had cost her her best friend. If she could take it all back… Would he leave now?

"I will meet you at your house at first light," he finally replied, moving from the doorway towards the basket on the floor.

With a quick nod of acknowledgement, she walked out the door into the light of the day. On the steps down to the Chantry's courtyard, she ran into Sebastian and invited him to accompany her to Ander's clinic. She had a basket of food and some supplies for him back at her house. At the top of the stairs a solitary figure watched them walk away together before turning slowly and walking back to a Hightown mansion…

"Ryann dear, I do wish you had mentioned the Prince would be dining with us for dinner. I would have at least had Bodhan set a proper table," Leandra Hawke sighed, watching her daughter and the Prince of Starkhaven sitting at the kitchen table eating hearty hot sandwiches of roast beef and cheese on toasted, crusty peasant bread. Along with their sandwiches, Ryann had thrown together a fresh fruit salad and cold mugs of ale.

"Oh please do not trouble yourself, dear lady. Your daughter's culinary skills are legendary as is her generous hospitality. I cannot express what a joy it is to be an honored guest at your table."

Hawke just rolled her eyes upward and stuffed the rest of her sandwich into her mouth.

"You are too kind your Highness. We are indeed honored that you are a guest in our home."

Ack…ack… Ryann pretended to stick her finger down her throat. "You only see him here at least five or six times a month eating lunch, or breakfast, or just stopping by because Varric happened to mention I made fresh doughnuts - "

"Do you happen to have - "

"Same place they were last time you were here," she replied without breaking her eyes from her mothers. "See! He's been here enough to know where I keep thing!"

"Ryann, we no longer live in Lowtown and you should learn to act the part of a proper lady and hostess," her mother admonished. "You are an Amell - "

"I'm a Hawke, mother, and I kill people to keep a roof over our heads."

"Honestly Ryann, how will I ever find a suitable husband for you if you don't at least try to act like a lady?"

Licking powdered sugar from his fingertips, Sebastian sat back down at the table and said, "Any man would be honored to have your daughter as his wife, Serah Hawke."

"Then why have you not asked for her hand yourself, if you really believe that to be true?"

"Mother!"

"As you know, I have pledged myself to the Chantry and the Maker. But had I not taken my vows, be assured I would have indeed pursued her hand."

"Oh fine. Talk about me like I'm not standing right here."

"I just want to see you settled down and be able to enjoy my grandchildren before I get too old!"

"Who said anything about grandchildren!"

"I believe your daughter is more than capable of choosing a suitable husband and will one day grace your days with beautiful babies to spoil and enjoy."

"Oh, your Grace, I do appreciate your words of encouragement. I can only pray that in time my daughter will settle down and marry a proper gentleman."

"She means quit running around with the wrong crowd, as I do now."

"Most of your… friends are of rather questionable character. Except for Your Grace and Aveline, you could do with a better class of people to associate with.

"Those people of questionable character, as you call them, are the only ones I trust with my life, Mother."

"I'm just saying I wish you would find other people to spend time with and not spend so many evenings at that elf's. It's unseemly for a single woman of your status to spend so much time alone with a gentleman, especially an elf."

"Fenris is always a perfect gentleman mother, and he has never been anything but courteous and proper to you."

"But how long will he continue to respect you if you insist on getting drunk and sleeping on his couch?"

"Maybe this is a conversation I should not be privy to," Sebastian interrupted the heated conversation.

"No Ser Prince. I implore you to talk some sense into my daughter."

"Maker Mother. I hack and slash my way through mercenaries and bandits on a daily basis and you're afraid I can't handle one man?"

"Then think of your reputation - "

"Sebastian, I'll walk you out, then I'm going to bed. A few of us are going to the Bone Pit in the morning. If you want to come along, meet us here at sunrise. We should only be gone about two days," she said tiredly, completely ignoring her mother as she sat their empty plates in the sink for Bodhan to take care of.

"My bow is at your service, Hawke." Turning to Leandra, he gave a small bow and excused himself. Ryann walked with him to the garden wall entrance.

"So what's up between you and Fenris? Even I know you spend a lot of time together. But for the past week you've been hanging out at the Hanged Man and sleeping in Varric's spare bed for at least two nights."

"We had a misunderstanding…"

"Did he try something? If he did I'll…"

"NO! No… if anything I might have made advances to him."

When the Prince just looked at her, stunned, she continued. "I know it was stupid and all and he turned me down and I just couldn't face him again after that. So I hid. But I went over today and apologized. Took him a basket with some Shepard's pie and brownies, and milk, and…" She trailed off when he did nothing but continue to stare at her with a confused look on his face.

"I'm sorry Hawke, but did you say he turned you down?" Evidently Fenris was not as smart as he had given him credit for. He didn't condone what she had tried to do. Sex outside of marriage was not what the Maker intended. And although he stood by the Chantry's views… Maker… Fenris had turned her down? He'd turned down Ryann Hawke who was sought after by half of Kirkwall? Ryann Hawke who had the face of a goddess and the body of … Oh he'd best not go there.

Of course he knew there was something between Hawke and the elf. She wouldn't have… offered, if she didn't have feelings for Fenris. But… it still boggled his mind that the elf had turned her down. Maker… Hawke was gorgeous, surely crafted by the maker's own hands. If he hadn't already pledged himself to Andraste, he'd have pursued her. She could have been a Queen…

"Don't look at me like that Sebastian. I know it was stupid."

"You weren't stupid Hawke. I know you would have never done anything like that if you didn't have feelings for him."

"I… I like him, probably more than is wise. He's my best friend. We've known each other for years now and…"

"Oh I think you and I both know it's more than like, Hawke. The Maker knows what's in your heart."

"It was still a stupid move on my part, and I don't think he feels the same way. I just want things to be the way they were."

"Fenris doesn't really know how to live like a free man, Hawke. Give him time, if he's who you really have your heart set on."

"I know, I know. And I would not burden him with unwanted attention."

"Oh, I don't think it's unwanted. He would never have allowed you to get as close as you have already if he didn't at least like you."

"Well, I'm not going to push. I just want my friend back. That will be enough."

"If you say so…" he turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning, Hawke."

Alone in her room that night she sat by the window and stared across the Hightown landscape to where she could just make out a single light coming from a certain abandoned mansion. Was he thinking of her? Did he know how much he meant to her? She missed her friend, she missed him so much…

A lone elf sat looking out the window of his bedroom. In the distance the Amell Estate's lights were being extinguished, one by one. No doubt Bodhan making his nightly rounds checking the estate before heading to bed.

He wondered where she was, what she was doing? Was she thinking of him? Did she know how much she'd come to mean to him? Tomorrow… he'd talk to her tomorrow… Tomorrow he'd tell her everything…

**A/N1:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and signed up for alerts, and also to anyone else who checks out my story. Reviews are always appreciated, but not necessary, and I hope you enjoy reading the stories I write as much as I enjoy writing them.

**A/N2: **Sorry for the long delay. This has been languishing on my PC for some time now and I finally decided to finish editing it and throw it up on the forums. A lot of this fic gets written while I'm at work and I have to piece together little bits here and there as I finish them. For anyone who's following my ME2 story, Mystery to Me, I have lots of the next chapter written for it also, but it needs editing and that will probably be some time early next year. (Writing while I'm at work? Scandalous! One can only stare at spreadsheets and contracts for so long before going legally insane… Trust me on this one….)


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